


How to Save the World

by Saedyn



Series: After the Snap [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, No Romance, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), genderless reader, male or female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saedyn/pseuds/Saedyn
Summary: It's been two years since The Snap.  A lot has changed.  And a lot is about to change.(If you haven't read the first story in this series, please do before reading this one!)





	1. Two Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wanted to continue the story from part one, but I also wanted to leave it standing on it's own, which is why I'm making this a whole separate part. It will continue the reader's story, but this way if it sucks you can just ignore this one and pretend it didn't happen. I hope you enjoy!

It’s been exactly two years since the snap. Turner is two now; a lot bigger than the six-month old you clung to on that devastating day. A lot has changed since then. Not long after the battle in Wakanda, several heroes (most notably Captain America, who had since been pardoned of his “crimes”) had come forth and explained what had occurred. Others remained silent.

As much as you hate to say it, a lot has changed for the better. The international poverty rates are at an all time low, getting a job has never been easier, and almost no one has to go to bed hungry anymore. But, on the other hand, suicide rates are at an all-time high—it turns out that people don’t want to live if they’ve lost everyone they’ve cared about. That’s where you come in.

After that day, you discovered that those calming words you had whispered to your brothers to silence their tears didn’t only work on them. You couldn’t explain how, but you had a gift. You had saved countless lives in this past year because of it. Every day you dropped Turner off at the day care (you always made sure to give him a big hug—just in case) and went to work. You’re a little young to be a therapist, but you didn’t exactly decide that’s what you were going to be, it just… happened. Of course, you couldn’t use the exact words you had used to comfort Dustin and Turner, no, you had to use a much more creative word choice now that you were dealing with people above the age of six, but the result was still the same. It wasn’t a “super power” per say, but if it helped people, why not use it right? You never imagined that this is where it would lead you though.

Today started the same way as every day, with you dropping off Turner at the day care. You had kneeled to give him his hug as usual, but today he didn’t hug you. Instead, he grinned, and said “No!” before running off to play with the other kids. You knew he had meant it to be funny, but you couldn’t help but wince. He looked so much like Dustin.

You got back in the car, trying not to tear up. If only you could use your gift on yourself.  
On a normal day, now would be when you went to the office. Today was different. Today you were doing something that you never thought in a million years you would ever do. Today, you were going to the airport. See, your talents hadn’t gone unnoticed, in fact you’d kind of become famous (to an extent—you’re still a therapist, after all). Today, on the anniversary of what was now universally known as The Snap, you had been asked by the President himself to speak at the memorial ceremony. It’s going to be broadcast throughout the nation.

That’s where you are now; standing right off to the side of the stage, in Washington DC, waiting for your name to be announced, billions of butterflies infesting your organs. You’d given a few speeches before, some of which had gone viral (hence you being here) but, this? This is huge. You’re about to have 325 million eyes on you, and it’s definitely too late now to back out. Your stomach fills with dread as you hear your name blasted out over the speakers.

You approach the podium and breathe. The crowd claps politely and then settle down to let you speak. You begin your speech:


	2. The Speech

“’It should have been me,’” you say into the mic.  “I hear that phrase almost every day now.”  You swallow hard.  Your hands are so shaky that you can’t read the notes you had prepared, and you’re so stressed that even the teleprompter looked blurry.  You put down your notes, close your eyes, and begin saying the first things that come to mind.  So much for spending hours writing that speech.

“I know that even I’ve felt that way sometimes.  But here’s the truth: it wasn’t us, and there’s nothing we can do, nothing we _could’ve_ done, about that.  For once, there was a problem that was entirely out of our hands.  But it’s over now.  I know this speech is supposed to be in the memory of all those lost, but there’s a few things I think need to be said.  I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ve all had time to mourn, and as much as the past pains us, it’s time for us to move on, not only as a nation, but as a planet.  What happened was terrible, we can all agree on that, but what’s happening now?  It’s almost worse.  This time we _do_ have control over what happens to us, and yet we’re _still_ falling apart.  We’re so focused on what we’ve lost that none of us are looking around to see what we still have.  I don’t want today to be a day where everyone locks themselves inside to mourn, because I don’t think that’s what they would’ve wanted.  And I’m not saying you can’t take time out of your day to remember them, but I highly encourage that this year we come out and help _each other_ , we appreciate all we still have, we appreciate simply _being alive,_ in honor of them.  Because if we don’t… then what was the point?”

You had planned on the speech being longer, but that was all you wanted to say.  You stared out at the crowd, and they stared back.  A silence hangs in the air for a couple seconds, and you swear you’re about to pass out.  You let out a big sigh of relief, as one man’s clapping multiplies, until your ears are frenzied by the sounds of cheers.  A man appears at your side to escort you off stage, and without thinking twice, you follow him, and exit.

Once safely back on the ground, the man who led you off turns to you, and says “I couldn’t help but notice you look a little off balance.  Do you want to sit back down and watch the rest of the service?  Or should I show you to the break room?”

“The break room would be great, thank you.”  You didn’t know there was a break room.

He leads you through the rows of seated politicians and other important peoples to a small building, unlocks the door to it, and opens the door for you.  Inside, there’s several small tables set up, with a buffet off to the side.  “Technically no one is supposed to come in here until after the service, but feel free to rest in here until you feel you can come back out.  I’ll be waiting out by the door whenever you’re ready,” the man says.

“Thanks, Happy, but I think I can take it from here,” you hear someone say as you enter the room.  “Go ahead and get the car ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” The man exits the room.  The door gives a soft click as it closes, and you look around the room to find the owner of the voice.

“That was quite the speech.”  You spot her.  She’s standing near the wall on the side of the room with the door, which is why you didn’t see her when you came in.  It takes you a few seconds, but you eventually realize you’ve seen this woman before.

“You’re…”

“Pepper Potts.  Nice to finally meet you.  Here, let’s sit.”  She gestures to the closest table, and although you’re not sure why yet, you sit.

“You know who I am?”

“I know far more than just who you are.  I’ve been doing a lot a research; supposedly you’re the best.  I had seen several videos of some of your past speeches, but I thought I could never be sure until I heard you myself.  Apparently, you _do_ sound much more convincing in person.”

“Thanks… Could I ask _why_ you’ve been researching me?”

Her expression grew much more serious; not that it wasn’t serious before, but it almost darkened.  Before she seemed friendly and warm, and now she’s… _sad_.  There’s really no other way to put it.

“I want to hire you.”  She paused for a second to let that sink in.  “My… _fiancé_ , Tony, he…”

“You mean Tony Stark?  You want _me_ to work with _Tony Stark?_ ”

“I’ve tried all of the best therapists in New York, and _none_ have managed to do anything.  Honestly, coming here today was my last desperate attempt at finding a solution, but after hearing you today, I think you can do it.  After everything happened, he…”

“I know.”  Everyone knows.  When I mentioned before that some heroes spoke out about the events while others remained silent, Stark was one of the silent.  He’s never spoken out once of the events that occurred after he left the Earth’s atmosphere that day.  The man who used to throw and attend massive parties stayed locked away from the public’s eye.  No new inventions.  No Iron Man.

“Of course, we’ll pay for your plane ticket and living arrangements for you.  We can discuss your salary when you’ve successfully landed the job.” Pepper says to break the silence.

“Look, that sounds great and all, but I have a brother that—”

“Oh, we know.  We’re prepared to help provide for him as well.  Anything you need, I’ll be happy to help, or at least, have Happy help.”

You laugh out of disbelief.  “Okay, well, when would I start?”

“Slow down, you haven’t got the job _yet_.  If you don’t mind, I was going to fly you up to New York today, so you can meet him and see if you can work together or not.”

“Oh, well, I actually have to head back home soon after this to pick up my brother from the daycare…”

“I promise it won’t take too long.  Besides, we’ve already called into the daycare and asked to extend your brother’s time there (we paid for it, don’t worry).”

“Oh.”  You ran out of excuses.  “I guess we’re going to New York then.”  What the fuck did you just get yourself into.


	3. The Interview

Today is a big day for firsts.  First time giving a speech for the president.  First time riding in a private jet to New York.  First time going into Stark Tower.

Your heart pounds as the elevator doors close.  Pepper glances at you, seeing how nervous you are.  “Hey, don’t worry.  He comes off a little strong at first, but you’ll get used to it.  Besides, I’ll be there the whole time to help you out.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you nod instead.  There’s a ding, and the doors open.  Top floor.

The place was nice, but it was kind of… dismal?  It reminded you of what you assumed a penthouse would look like, but the only light coming in was through the windows, and everything looked like it hadn’t been used it at least a year.

Pepper turned to you.  “Okay, he should be working in his lab right now.  I’ll go down and get him.  You wait up here and—”

“Who the hell is this?”

You turn to see Tony Stark himself standing over in the bar area.

“Tony!  I thought you’d be working.”  Pepper says, trying to act as normally as possible.

“I was.  I got hungry.”  He walks away from the bar and closer to you two, analyzing.

“This is the therapist I was telling you about,” She says, hesitantly.

“Pepper, can I talk with you?”  He leads her to a separate room.  You can hear their voices through the door, but not clear enough to hear what they’re saying.

You look around the room.  Dustin would be so jealous if he could see you now.  You have no doubt that he’d be running around, telling you everything he knew about the place.

You hear the door open, and they both come out.  Pepper starts walking back to your side—wait, no.  She’s walking past you.  She’s walking to the elevator.  You shoot her a panicked look, and she makes a face back, as if to say, “sorry!”

You look back around to Stark, and hear the elevator shut behind you.  You’re on your own now.

“So,” he says, “what makes you so special?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What makes you think you can fix what 20 other therapists have failed to?”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m very good at my job—”

He laughs.  “I’ve seen your speeches you know.  And I have to say… not impressed.”

“Apparently it’s much more affective in person—”

“See, I’ve heard that too.  Scientifically speaking, that’s impossible.  Words can’t have different effects depending on whether they come through a speaker or through a mouth.”

“I think it’s more that words.”  You say it before you realize it.  _Shit_.

“Oh?” he questions.  “Then what is it?”

You had had the thought for a while but had never told anyone because you didn’t want to sound like an idiot, and of all the people that you could afford to sound like an idiot to, Tony Stark was _not_ one of them.  But you had already brought it up, and it was too late to change the topic now.

“I think…” a lump formed in your throat.  _Just force it out_ , you thought to yourself.  “I think I’m a mutant.”

The silence that lingered in the air was painful.  You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he stared at you, astonished.  He laughs.  “That is the laziest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Or something like that, I don’t know,” you scramble out, trying desperately to redeem yourself.  “I’ve heard reports about a man in Hell’s Kitchen, who could like, manipulate the pheromones in the air to make people do what ever he said, but because of that he could only control people he was in the same room with.  I think it’s kind of like that, but with emotions.”

“Okay, then manipulate my pheromones.”

It takes you a second to register what he was asking due to the bizarre structure of that sentence.  “Oh, um…” you struggle to find any words.  You aren’t used to being put on the spot.

“That’s what I thought.”  He turns to walk away.  “You can take the elevator back down to the first floor.  Pepper’s probably waiting there for you.”

“Wait.”  He stops walking away, but he doesn’t turn back to look at you.  “Whatever happened out there, you think it was your fault, but, it wasn’t.”  Without thinking, you start walking towards him.  “Nothing could’ve stopped Thanos, but you’re still beating yourself up about it anyway.”  You pause, trying to come up with more to say.  “He was a good a kid.  I know he looked up to you and you feel like you let him down, but, think about it this way:  you made his life _awesome_.  How many kids can say that they’ve been into space?  That they’ve fought alongside and _against_ some of the earth’s most powerful people?  Personally, I would’ve gladly traded my high school experience for that, and, now that I think about it, probably my life too.”

You’ve caught up to him now.  You walk around him so you can see his face.  His eyes are red.

“How did you do that.”  He says it flatly and without looking at you.

“I…”  You were hoping your words would have some impact, but you weren’t expecting this.

“Get out.”

“Sir—”

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore, just… just get out of here.”

Without saying another word, you walk back to the elevator.  You’re not quite sure how to feel right now.  You’re in such a state of shock that you don’t know whether you should cry or throw up.  The only thing you do know is that you should probably do as you’re told and leave.  You hit the button for floor one, and the elevator doors shut.


	4. Callback

Long story short, you don’t think you got the job.  Life went back to normal (or as far as normal could be nowadays) once you got back home.  You could tell Turner was upset that you left him at the daycare longer than normal, but because he still was figuring out how to express his thoughts out loud, you weren’t questioned about it much, which you figured was a good thing.  You decide to keep the whole adventure on the downlow, after all, you’re never supposed to discuss clients outside of work, so this shouldn’t be any different.  That, however, doesn’t work out very well.

It’s been about four months since the interview.  After a long week of appointments, you promised you would spend the whole day with Turner.  Because of your speech in D.C., business was booming for you, but that unfortunately meant you couldn’t spend as much time with the little guy anymore, so when you saw you had an open day, you made sure not to schedule anymore appointments.

Turner is beyond excited.  He runs (or waddles) down the hall toward the front door ahead of you.  “I. want.  ICE CREAM!!!” he bellows, slapping his hands up against the door.

“Alright buddy, slow down, I’m coming!”  You hadn’t had ice cream in a while either.  Today is going to be a good day.  You walk to the end of the hall and pick up Turner and set him back down away from the door, so you can open it.  “Okay, _now_ we can—”

You stop talking when you see what’s outside.  A white limousine is parked on the curb right in front of your house.  From behind you, you hear a tiny voice say “ _woah”._   Turner manages to get around you and tries to run to it to get a closer look (he really likes cars), but you manage to catch him by the shoulder.

“Sorry, bud, I don’t think that’s for us.”  Just then, the door on the passenger side opens to reveal none other than…

“Happy?”

“Actually my day could be going better but--”

“Why are you here?

“I was sent to pick you up.”

“Because…?”

“I didn’t ask.  All I know is that he told me to get you.”

“He?  You mean Stark wants to see me?”

“I’m assuming so, yes.  Look, you can ask questions on the way there, let’s go.”

“Hold on,” you turn and kneel down to Turner.  “I’ve got to talk to this guy really quick.  Can you wait right here?”

Turner looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that only toddlers know how to make.  “Then ice cream?”

“Of course, then ice cream.”  You really hope you’re telling the truth.

You stand back up and pull Happy over to the side.  “Look, this is my first day off in a really long time, could we do this another day?”

“I don’t make the decisions.”

“No but you’re friends with Stark, right?  Can’t you talk with him?  At least move it to later in the day?  I promised my brother we would go out for ice cream.”

Happy glances over at Turner who’s picking at his shoe.  “Hey kid!” he calls.  Turner looks up like a deer in headlights.  “You like ice cream?”.  Turner looks to you, then back to Happy, and slowly nods.  Happy walks to the back door of the limo, opens it, and then opens the fridge inside the door.  It’s loaded with pints of Ben & Jerry’s.  Without hesitation, Turner sprints into the limo.

“Good to know my brother is so easy to kidnap,” you resign, climbing in behind him.

\-----------------

Your stomach shriveled to the size of a peanut when the tower was in sight; whatever you were here for, you did _not_ want to re-experience what happened last time.  Just as the limo pulled up to the front doors, a ringing went off through the speakers.  On a small tv screen, a display came up saying “receiving call from: STARK, ANTHONY” with an answer and decline button underneath.  Hesitantly, you touch the answer button.  The ringing stops.

“Hello?” you say to the open air.

“Yeah, are you almost here?” you hear Stark say through the speakers.

“Uh, yeah, we just pulled up.”

“Who is that?” Turner blurts it out before you get a chance to shush him.

“Was that a kid?”

“Yes…?”

“Why do you have a kid?”

“He’s—”

“You know what: I don’t care.  Just give him to Happy; he’s used to babysitting.  Go ahead and meet me on the third floor when you get inside.”  He hangs up before you get a chance to respond.

The limo door opens, and you and Turner step out into the shadow of the colossal piece of architecture.  “You can go ahead and go in.  I’ve done my part,” Happy says.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah what?”

“Stark told me to leave Turner with you.”

Happy looks from you, to the tower, to the ice cream covered child standing next to you, and sighs deeply.  “Of course he did.”

\-------------

The elevator doors open, and you step out onto the third floor.  No one’s there.  “Hello?” you call out.

“Back here.  Second door on the left down this hall,” someone responds from another room.

With no better options, you follow the voice.  You nearly run into Tony when you enter the room because he’s messing with the door frame.  “Shit, sorry,” you say, flustered.

Without looking away from the frame, he responds: “It’s about time you showed up.”

“About that… why am I here, exactly?”

Finally taking his eyes off of whatever he’s working on, he glances at you, and then turns to the rest of the room.  “(y/n)(y/l/n), meet my friend, Bruce.”

Further in the room, a man who you hadn’t noticed before stands up uncertainly from where he was sitting.  You recognize him immediately:  Bruce Banner.  He approaches you to shake your hand.

“Oh, uh, wow.  It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”  You’re kind of geeking out.

“Uh, thanks…” he smiles, embarrassed.  “Tony, I would also like to know what’s going on, if you don’t mind?”

Focusing back to the door frame and ignoring Banner completely, Tony says: “So you’re a therapist right?  You deal a lot with emotions and shit?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Oh, yeah, you could say that.”

“Well, I don’t know how much you’ve been filled in already, but Bruce here has been having some… trouble displaying certain emotions.”

“Oh no, I did _not_ agree to this,” Banner says.  He seems almost panicked.

“You claim that you can make people feel whatever you want.” Stark steps away from the door frame, evidently finished with whatever he was working on.  “Prove it.”

“Tony—” Banner makes a run for it, but not fast enough.  Stark manages to slip through the door and shut it.  There’s a soft click and a small beep.  Bruce tries to open it, but to no avail.  You’re locked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a little longer. School made things super busy and I was having computer issues, but everything should be fine now. I hope you enjoyed!


	5. The Test

Bruce tries for about an hour to unlock the door, but to no avail.  You sit in a chair, keeping to yourself, and staring at yourself in the large mirror on the wall.  “I gave my toddler brother to someone who’s practically a complete stranger,” you muse aloud, “and now I’m locked in a room with someone who could turn into a literal monster at any second.  I really need to learn how to think ahead.”

“Hold on, I think I’ve almost—” he’s interrupted by a loud spark coming from the door.  It’s still not open.  He puts his head in his hands, thinking.  “I don’t get it.  I’ve tried literally everything.”

“You can’t unlock it.”  You know you’re both thinking it, but you say it anyway.  “The only way for us to get out is for the green guy to show up.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

“Just let me try—”

“He’d kill you.  He’d destroy this entire building and who knows what else.  I’ll do it when I _really_ need to, but not for one of his tests.”

There.  You saw your opportunity.  “One of?  Has he done this before?”

“About seven times now, yeah.”

“Why did you come today then?”

“He said it was important.  That he was going to…” He laughs.  “That he was going to put the Avengers back together.  I should’ve known better.”

“He sounds like a real ass hole.  Telling you one thing only to trick you into doing something you’ve repeatedly said you don’t want to.  Honestly, if I were you, I’d want to beat the shit out of him.”

He looks at you.  Dammit, he’s catching on.  “Oh no, I see what you’re doing.  It’s not going to work.”

“Why not though?  He wants you to get angry?  _Get angry.  Get pissed.  Show him that he’s making a mistake.”_

“No, no, stop talking!” He’s holding his head in his hands, trying to block you out.  His veins have switched from the normal blue tint to a bulging green one.  It’s working.

“Or are you going to _let_ him keep controlling you like this?  I don’t think you are.  You know why?  Because you’re _not_ the weak Bruce Banner.  You’re the Goddamn Hulk!”

That did the trick.  His shirt ripped to pieces as his small frame transformed into one so large that he barely fit in the room.  He screams, no, he _roars_ as he thrashes both of his arms, one of them knocking a massive hole in the wall and the other knocking into several pieces of furniture that all come hurtling towards you.  There’s a massive pain in your head, and everything goes black.

\----------------

You wake up on a sofa with a dull throbbing in your head and an ice pack on top of it.  You groan.

“Good, you’re awake.”  Stark.  You try to sit up and figure out where exactly he is, only for the pain in your head to get about fifty times worse.  “Slow down, you don’t want to get up just yet.”  He comes around the sofa and gently pushes you back down.  “Friday says you have a minor concussion.  You should be fine in about two weeks, but until then it’s best to rest.”

“Two weeks?” you manage to say, groggily.  “No, I have clients that…” your thoughts wander off of work.  “Where’s Turner?”

“Your kid?  He’s still with Happy.  I almost brought him up, but I didn’t want him to worry by seeing his parent like this.”

“He’s my brother, not my kid.”

“Noted.”  He walks away for a second before coming back carrying a glass.  “Here, this can help the head ache.”

As soon as you take the glass, you can smell it.  You grimace.  That’s a _lot_ of whisky.  “And just give me a larger one later.  I’ll pass.”  You set it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Well, whenever you want it, it’s yours.  I owe you one after what just happened.”

“I could sue you.”  You’re a little surprised you just said that, but on second thought, maybe it’s not a bad idea?

“You could.” He says.  “But you won’t.  You’re not having to pay any medical bills, and it’s not like you _need_ anymore money, being the most highly regarded therapist in America.  God knows I have plenty of money to spare, so you wouldn’t do any damage to me.  And there’s no way you could do it without pulling Banner in as well, which I’ve got a gut feeling you don’t want to do.”

“Banner.”  You’d completely forgotten already.  “How is he?”

“Perfectly stabilized.  I had all the surrounding rooms emptied and reinforced with titanium so he wouldn’t be able to get out.  Being the dashing knight that I am, I grabbed you and got you up here as soon as he turned.  He ran out of stuff to break in about ten minutes and calmed back down within thirty, all without anyone else in the building knowing.”

Something about that doesn’t make sense.  “How did you get me up here without people noticing?”  Stark Tower is a busy building during the day, with people constantly getting on and off the elevators.  “I doubt people just completely missed Tony Stark carrying an unconscious body to the top floor.”

He smirks.  “I didn’t take the elevators.”

Your stomach drops.  Something about the knowledge of being carried by a flying man ninety-three stories above the ground while unconscious makes you want to throw up.  Or maybe that’s just the concussion.  Regardless, you throw up.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s fine.”  Your eyes are shut, but you can hear that he’s trying to restrain himself.  “It’s not like that’s a fifty-thousand-dollar couch,” he grumbles.

“Did I pass your test?” you say as soon as the sting clears from your throat.

“I’m a little alarmed at the route you took to do it, but yes, you did.”

You smile to yourself.  “Banner told you?”

“I was watching the whole time.  That mirror on the wall?  Two ways.”

“Creep.”

“Apparently I’m an ass-hole too.”

You laugh.  “You already knew that though.”  There’s a pause.  “So, what now?  Do I get the job?”

“You get _a_ job.”  He stops for dramatic effect.  “How would you like to become an Avenger?”

You’re still groggy from waking up, so you don’t fully process the question.  You laugh a little more.  “That sounds bad-ass.”

“Well then,” he walks toward you again, presumably to shake your hand.  “Welcome to the team.”

You start to prop yourself up to accept the hand shake, only to feel bile rising in your throat again.  You throw up on him, and slump back down.  You hear him say “I probably deserve that,” before you pass out again.


	6. Moving Day

It’s a strange feeling, closing the door to your office for the last time.  You’ve only worked there for a little over a year, but it still feels like a dominant part of your life.  People in the community were more than upset when they found out that you’re leaving, enough so that you even doubted your decision to move up to New York from time to time.  Can you really leave behind all of these people who depend on you?  Whenever that thought pops up, you quickly shake it out of your head.  By helping the Avengers, you’re going to help a lot more people than just your neighborhood.  Hopefully.

On the up side though, you do get _a lot_ of going away presents, the coolest of which being a classic Wurlitzer jukebox that a couple of other therapists had put some money together for.  It showed up on your front porch about a week after you announced leaving the practice with a note attached saying “Thanks for taking the stress off of the rest of us, hopefully this will help ease yours in the big leagues.”  This, along with countless other gifts you’ve been given recently, creates quite a mountain of boxes when moving day arrives.

“I thought you said you didn’t have much,” Happy says deadpan, after what’s already been an hour of he and a few hired hands moving boxes from your house to the truck, with still no end in sight.

“I didn’t,” you say, “until about two weeks ago.  If you think this is bad imagine packing all of it.”

“I’m calling in more men.”

“Don’t.  By the time they get here, we’ll almost be done.”

“By the time they get here, we’ll have barely scratched the surface.”  He steps to the side and pulls his phone out.

Coincidentally, right then, a man drives down your street, sees you out on the curb, and rolls down his car window.  “(y/l/n)?”

Hearing your name, you turn and see him as he pulls to a stop and steps out of his car.  “My daughter used to be one of your clients.  Sabrina?”

“You’re Mr. Delano,” you say.  You always make an effort to remember anyone you’ve ever had to work with, just in case of a future interaction.  One of the worst feelings in the world is encountering some one you used to know, only for them not to remember you at all.  “You’re the construction worker, right?”

“You’d be correct.  I just wanted to say thank you, before you left, for all you’ve done.  You’re truly one of the greatest people I’ve ever met”

“Oh, um,” you’re slightly taken aback.  “Thank you, but really, I was just doing my job.”  You try desperately to not sound too embarrassed.  You would think by now you’d have this whole acceptance speech down with all the praise you got.

“Just doing your job?  You saved my little girl’s life!”  It’s then that he looks past you and sees the moving truck.  “Moving day already?”

“For the boxes, yeah.  We leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“It looks like you’ve still got a lot to load…  Hey, my team is actually on break right now.  If you want, I could call them and we could help you wrap this up?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m sure none of the guys would mind.  I think we’d all rather help you than construct another building for the government.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”  Happy, who’s evidently been listening to his phone speaker through one ear and your conversation through the other, seems to have decided against calling in more guys.  Your house is empty and the truck is loaded within the next hour.

__________________________

The next morning you wake up bright and early for your flight to New York.  No private jet for you this time, although you do get to fly first class with pre-paid tickets.  Turner is not happy with the down-grade; he was under the impression that _all_ flights were private jets.

You were expecting to find a chauffer waiting for you when you got off the flight, having no previous instructions, but looking at the sea of people gathered in the exit area, no one is holding a sign with your name on it.  You’re about to call Happy (who had given you his number before leaving with the boxes in case he needed to contact you or vise-versa) when a text comes in from an unknown number.

_Grey Volkswagen Atlas._

Not knowing who the text is from is unnerving, but it’s the only information you have, so you go with it, assuming it’s Happy.  Finding the matching car, you go up to it and knock on the window.  After a second, it rolls down.  Whoever is driving is wearing shades and a hoodie, but from their outline, you doubt it’s Happy.  “Are you (y/n)?”  It’s a woman, which means it’s not _definitely_ not him.

“Yeah… are you my ride?”

“That’d be me.”  The whole scenario reeked of sketchy-ness.

“How do I know you’re not just here to kidnap us?”

The woman does a quick glance out both windows before carefully removing her disguise.  It takes you a second to recognize who she is.  “You’re—”

“Shhhh!” she quickly silences you.  “We can talk in the car.”

You nod your understanding, load your bags into the trunk, and then hop in the back seat with Turner, already fully equipped with a booster seat.

“Sorry if I freaked you out,” she says as you close the door, and she begins driving.  “I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing me.  Besides, I’m not too trusted at air ports.”

“You’re the Black Widow, right?”

“My colleagues tend to just call me Natasha, which includes you now.”  She glances in the rear-view mirror and notices Turner.  “Is he yours?”

“My brother.”  You wonder how many more times he’s going to be mistaken as your son.

“He’s a cute little guy.”

“Cute, but quite the hand-full.”  Ironically, this is the one time he’s ever not been incredibly hyper, quietly staring out the window at the passing city. 

“Well, if he ever becomes too much, feel free to drop him off by my room.”  She smiles softly.  “I’ve had some baby-sitting experience in the past.”  After a moment of silence, she adds “I realize that might’ve sounded a little _killer_ -ish, but I meant that in a totally non-creepy way.”

You laugh a little.  “You’re good, I knew what you meant.”  Suddenly, a question pops into your head.  “Why did they send you to pick me up?”

“They didn’t.  I volunteered.  Nobody else wanted to have to drive to the airport so I said I would.”

“Do you always have to do the work no one wants to do?”

“That’s usually the case yeah.  But I _did_ want to meet you before the rest do.  Make sure you’re not some kind of spy sent to sabotage us,” she jokes.

“Am I?”

“So far you check out, but I wouldn’t let my guard down yet.”

“Good to know.”

After some more driving, you finally pull up outside of a facility nowhere near the city.  “I thought the Avengers’ headquarter was Stark Tower,” you say as you all get out of the car.

“It was, until we realized that stationing ourselves in a massive building in one of the busiest cities in the world where all of our enemies could easily attack us _probably_ wasn’t the best idea.  Tony still uses it for all his business stuff, but as for us?  We’re all out here.  Much higher security, and much more inconspicuous.”

“Oh.”  You get the reasoning, but you’re still a little disappointed.  The idea of living in Stark Tower was _really_ cool.

“Okay,” Natasha says, closing the trunk to the car after you finish grabbing your bags.  “Are you ready for your first day?”


	7. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm not dead! I had ideas for where this was going to go, but new information prevented me from doing that (i.e. antman and the wasp and the endgame trailer), which is why this took so long. Eventually I just said screw it, imma do it my way, so I guess this is an AU now? I don't know. I hope you enjoy.

Finding your room wasn’t nearly as difficult as you expected it to be. Natasha had given you directions to your living quarters before heading off to do whatever it is she does. After following those, it was easy to find the door with your name on it. Upon walking into your new room for the first time, one thing is clear—no expenses were spared. You had sold all of your furniture with your old house, already having to pack enough things and being promised new sets when you arrived in New York, and you’re not let down. There’s a queen-sized bed that lowered from the wall like some cliché sci-fi movie, along with a much smaller race-car bed in matching colors that sits in the back corner of the room. It feels almost like a hotel room, but much more personal, and a _lot_ bigger. Your only concern is that you’re not going to be able to fit all of your stuff in here when it arrives later in the day.

It didn’t take you long to realize just how this rooming situation works. Not everyone who works at the facility also lives there, but those who are, are divided into living quarters based on their jobs. You would’ve thought you would be placed with the physicians or scientists, given as you’re a therapist, that was until you passed your section’s common room and saw some of your new neighbors. You had been placed in the hero’s quarters. The appropriate thing to do would’ve been to go introduce yourself and Turner, but with your brain still slightly shaken up from meeting Black Widow so unexpectedly, you decided to sneak past and go to your room first, to unpack the things you had and get some rest before meeting them all.

Right as you finish unpacking your bags, your cell phone dings. It’s from another unknown number.

_There’s going to be a meeting in the common room at 12:30._

You glance at your clock. It’s 12:20. Looks like you won’t get to rest after all. Another ding.

_I’ll send up a nanny to watch the kid._

Six minutes later, the nanny arrived at the door, giving you no excuse to further procrastinate leaving your room.

You have to stop and compose yourself before entering the common room. They’re all there talking and catching up as if it’s some high school reunion. Unfortunately for you, you’ve just transferred schools.  For a moment, you consider going over to Banner because he obviously knows all of these people, and when you met him before you got along fairly well.  Then you remember that you also forced him to turn into the Hulk, and you decided that maybe that wasn’t the best decision.  You quietly slip into the room, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself, and find a place to sit that’s not too close to anyone, but also not drastically separated.  You’re not the only one who’s chosen to adopt this tactic.

“Now, you definitely weren’t in the original team,” you hear a voice say next to you.  “I’m fairly certain I never saw you in the fight at the airport…” They pause, which gives you a second to turn and see who they are.  “And I don’t remember ever seeing you on the news, so where did you come from?”

“You’re the arrow guy…” you say, with some uncertainty.  It just occurred to you that you probably should’ve done some research before you came here.

“I save the world multiple times, and yet I’m still just ‘Arrow Guy’,” he says, shaking his head.

“Sorry…” you say, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves it off.  “I’m used to it by now,” he adds, muttering under his breath.  “Anyway, I’m Clint.”  He offers his hand, and you stand up to shake it.

“(y/n)” you respond.

“Okay, (y/n), I’m apparently Arrow Guy, so what’s your gimmick?”

You’re not quite sure how to answer that.  He’s probably expecting you to have some badass power or fighting style or a genius intellect like everyone else in the room.  How are you supposed to say that you’re just a glorified shrink?

“This is our emotional support.”  You’re startled out of your thought by a hand being put on your shoulder and someone standing next to you.  Not to your surprise, it’s Stark.  “Now, if you two will kindly stop flirting and take a seat, the meeting is about to begin.”  He walks away, and you look back at Clint.  He makes a face as if to say _Yeah, he’s annoying_.

You sit back down on the couch you were on previously, and Clint chooses to sit next to you.  “By the way,” you say once he sits down, “just so I don’t look like an idiot later, what _is_ your ‘super persona’?”

He lets out a deep breath before responding.  “I’m not sure I know anymore.”

Two minutes later, the meeting was called to order by Stark.  “I know it’s been a while sense we’ve all last seen each other, some of us on better terms than others… but I think it’s time to get the team back together.”

“For what?” A man says from the back of the room.  “Crime rates have been at an all time low.  There’s not really anything to _stop_ anymore.”

“Rhodes is right,” Clint pitches in.  “Tony, if this is just for some nostalgia trip, I’d rather not be here.”

“No, no, just, listen for a second.”  Stark takes a second, either to gather his thoughts or build suspense.  You figure it’s most likely the latter “You’re right, there’s not much to stop anymore, but what if I said there was still something we could save?”  He lets the question hang in the air.  “I have reason to believe that it’s possible to undo the snap.”

You can practically hear the mood shift in the room.  What that shift is, you can’t quite tell (you manipulate moods, you can’t read them).  Hope?  Intrigue?  Annoyance? 

“If that were true,” Captain America says (You’re pretty certain his real name is Steve?), finally joining in, “how would we pull it off?”  His voice sounds much deeper in person than it does on TV.

“Excellent question, I’d love to answer it, but instead I’m going to take this time to introduce one of our new recruits.”

Your heart starts pounding.  Why would he introduce you now?  You don’t know what’s going on!  You barely know half of the people in the room!

“Nebula, the floor is yours.”

You let out a small sigh of relief that you hope no one notices.

The other new recruit, “Nebula” apparently, was the other person you had noticed was not being too conversational with the other members.  Thinking back, you probably should’ve noticed the fact that she was blue and a robot(?) before noticing that she was anti-social.  All of the alien attacks in the past few years kind of desensitized you.

She steps forward, looking at everyone in the room before speaking.  “I was raised by Thanos.” 

Another tone shift.  This one is much clearer what it shifts to.  Unease.

“Because of this, I have grown up constantly hearing about the infinity stones, what they’re capable of, and what my father planned to do with them.  If we can get all of the stones back, you should be able to undo the events he caused.”

“All of them?”

Holy shit, you hadn’t even noticed.  Out of all the people in the room, he should’ve been the one who caught your attention the most, after all, how many posters and action figures had Dustin had?  He would be losing his mind if he saw you now, sitting in the same room as _Thor_.  He isn’t quite the same as the morning cartoons portrayed him though.  He’s… darker.

“Yes,” Nebula continues, “all of them.” 

There was some kind of understanding between them, an invisible link that you couldn’t quite see.

“Weren’t the stones destroyed though?” Banner says.  “Correct me if I’m wrong, I didn’t see the whole thing clearly, but after the snap, didn’t Thanos, along with the gauntlet, disappear?”

“He didn’t disappear, he moved.”

“So then, how do we find him?” Rhodes says.

“I have some ideas on where he may be.  But directly taking the stones from him could be risky.”

“Could be?” a new voice says.  “I watched that asshole single-handedly swat aside almost everyone in this room!” You hadn’t seen him before, probably due to his size, but there was an anthropomorphic raccoon standing on a bar stool towards the back of the room.  You make the connection that this is probably the raccoon mentioned during the battle of Wakanda.  You decide there are more pressing matters to focus on than the raccoon at the moment, but this _will_ keep you awake later tonight.

“That’s why we’re not going to fight him head on.”  Tony took the mantle again.  “Not right away, at least.”  Another pause.  _God_ this guy loves his theatrics.

“So, what are you suggesting?” Banner says, sacrificing himself to go for Tony’s bait.

“I’m glad you asked.”  Tony smirks, acting confident, although you see something else behind his eyes.  This isn’t another build up for suspense.  This is hesitation. Finally, he spits it out. “Time travel.”

Several people begin talking at once, some in protest, some in confusion, some in hysterical laughter (mainly the raccoon) but you just sit there, still not believing the situation you’re in.

“Hold, just, hear me out!” Stark shouts over everyone else.  Eventually, the noise dies down.  “We were in possession of at least two of them at one point, and _now,_ between all of us, we know where the rest were, so if we could somehow go back—”

“That technology doesn’t exist Tony,” Banner protests.

“I’ve heard that argument from about a million people and I’ve proved it wrong every. Single. Time.”

“So, you’ve done it?” you finally chime in.  “You’ve made a time machine?”  Your voice is weak, but you hardly notice because you’re so consumed by your thoughts.  You might get to see your parents again.  And just maybe, you would get to see Dustin.

Tony looks at you apologetically.  “No, not yet.  But, even if I had already, we couldn’t use it.”  He takes a deep breath.  “All of us are broken after what happened.  Even though we’re all together again, we’re not a team.  So, while Banner and I work on our new spiffy time machine, everyone else will be doing team exercises, training, whatever it takes to get us ready for the next big step.  Most importantly, we can’t proceed without making sure that we’re all… okay.  If you will all turn your attention to our newest member…”  He gestures toward you, and every eye in the room turns to focus on you.  “This is (y/n) (y/l/n), our resident therapist.  All of us will have _at least_ one appointment a week, no negotiations.”

“You really think this will work?” Cap asks.

Stark shrugs.  “Do you have any better ideas.”

Steve looks down, thinking, before raising his head back up and extending his hand to Tony to shake.  “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! If you want, it would be really nice if you left some feedback (good or bad) just so I can know what I'm doing right, what I need to improve on, etc. If you're going to be critical though, please be constructive! Thanks!


	8. Week One

_ Notes: _

_This notebook is property of_ (y/n) _and is strictly confidential and are not to be shared outside of any session_

_Week One: Analysis_

_Monday, 8/3/20_  
Patient: Steve Rodgers  
  


_Patient has long history of adapting to changes (super soldier experiments, being frozen for 70 years, etc.).  Lost his friend James “Bucky” Barnes during the decimation, and another friend, Sam Wilson, is still missing, supposedly also dusted.  Seems to have had previous therapy already, which is a step ahead of everyone else.  He’s still struggling with events of decimation but is more than willing to open up and try to fix things.  Over all, a good start._

_Tuesday, 8/4/20  
Patient: James Rhodes_

_It’s apparent he’s not used to talking about his emotions too much.  Very reserved.  He didn’t mention losing anyone close during the decimation.  Seems more concerned for his fellow teammates than he is in mourning.  It will take more time to figure out what to do with him._

_Wednesday, 8/5/20  
Patient: Natasha Romanoff_

_Good God, where do I start.  Patient talked about past without much prompting but didn’t react to her own words much.  A lot of emotional suppression, most likely due to early childhood trauma, not the decimation.  This one will be a lot of work._

_Thursday, 8/6/20  
Patient: Rocket Raccoon_

_Much larger emotional range than I thought a raccoon was capable of.  Started session acting tough, as if events of decimation had hardly fazed him, but ended with him sobbing.  Patient lost everyone he was close to in the decimation, including his surrogate son.  I’m going to have to put some time into this one, but probably won’t be too difficult to work with him_

_Friday, 8/7/20  
Patient: Tony Stark_

_Huge demeanor shift between normal attitude and behavior in session.  Avoided talking about certain topics in too much detail, namely the death of his parents and the loss of his apprentice figure during the decimation.  Clear signs of PTSD, and anxiety.  I’ll need to know more about his past before I can properly help him._

_Saturday, 8/8/20  
Patient: Clint Barton_

_Lost wife, son and daughter in the decimation.  Partly blames himself for this.  He now feels obligated to do something about this but can’t seem to define what that is.  I think acceptance will be our main goal with him._

_Saturday, 8/8/20  
Patient: Nebula_

_Failed to show up for session._

_Sunday, 8/9/20  
Patient: Thor Odinson_

_Not as cheerful and happy as the façade he puts on. Lost his entire home, including all of his family, prior to the decimation.  Very determined on exacting revenge in honor of those he lost.  We’re definitely going to have to work on channeling out all of the anger he’s suppressing._


	9. Field Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this, I wanted to stay as close to canon as I could. This obviously has not worked out. If anyone is reading this after Endgame comes out, this is how I imagined it going down (with the exception of the main character), before any of the trailers came out or anything, so I'm gonna stick with it. With that being said, enjoy!

The first week of work was rough.  Well, the first appointment with any patient is always rough, trying to get them to break out of their shells.  You had thought by this point you had heard the worst things a person could possibly go through.  Turns out you were wrong.

Outside of your sessions however, life at the avengers compound was good.  You found that it was a lot easier to talk to these people than you had initially thought (all except Nebula, who you suspected didn’t talk to anyone much), although sometimes it was hard to differentiate what was said in a session, which is strictly confidential, and what wasn’t.  This is the reason why you aren’t supposed to have relationships with your clients, and because you’ve had so many, why you haven’t had any real relationships after the decimation.  Except your brother.  And now, these guys.

It took a while, but after a large amount of time spent procrastinating, you’ve unpacked all your stuff from home.  You couldn’t fit everything into your room, so a couple of your things became community items for everyone to use.  The jukebox was by far the most popular.  Watching how everyone else interacted with it was almost more insightful than your sessions with them.  When Steve first saw it, he looked slightly confused, but then, realizing what it was, got the biggest grin before flipping through the song list.  That list was soon changed however, when Tony found it and, without consulting you or anyone else about it, filled it with his collection of classic rock vinyl.  These reactions were both somewhat expected though.  The interaction you didn’t seen coming, was Rocket’s.

While most of the other avengers thoroughly enjoy the juke, Rocket doesn’t, although that doesn’t seem to prevent him from using it.  He usually plays upbeat songs from the 70’s or 80’s and _maybe_ early 90’s.  Most of you sing along, or at least tap your foot to the beat, but he just sits there and listens, every time.

Right now, you’re laying in bed, wondering why this might be.  Turner finally decided it was nap time, giving you time to rest yourself.  Or so you thought.  Just as you are getting comfortable, there’s a knock at your door.  You get up and try to make your self look somewhat presentable before opening the door. 

“Oh, Steve, what’s up?”

“The Stark and Banner say they need some sort of gadget for whatever it is they’re building, so I volunteered to go get one.  You wanna come?”

“Well…” All you really want to do right now is get back in bed, but something tells you that won’t work as an excuse.  “I don’t think I’m really supposed to be doing any field work.”

“No, but it would do you good to get out of here for a while.  Come on.”

You sigh defeated.  He was right.  You hadn’t left the compound since the day you got there, and you were beginning to go a little stir crazy.  You call the nanny to watch over turner while you’re gone, and then begin following Cap towards the exit.

“So is this a Best Buy type gadget or are we talking more high-tech?” you ask, catching back up to him.

“High tech is an understatement.  We’re talking Pym Tech.”

“Hold on,” you stop walking.  “Are we breaking into Pym labs?  Because there’s no way I’m qualified for that.”

“But I am.”

You and Cap both jump a little because neither of you had noticed Rocket had joined you.

“Ha!  That never gets old.  Anyway, what are we stealing?”

“One, we aren’t really stealing, and two, it’s not we.  You aren’t coming.”  Cap says, authoritatively.

“What?  But I’m the scrap guy!  I find stuff!  It’s what I do!”

“I’m sure you’ll _find_ a lot of other unnecessary stuff while we’re there.”

“C’mon!” Rocket whined.  “Please, I’m begging you, I haven’t left here in ages!  Ages!  I gotta get out!”

“You did say it wasn’t good to be trapped up in here.”  You finally chime in.  While Cap was probably right in his suspicions, it might actually be healthy for Rocket to actually get to do stuff—to feel like he has a purpose.

“See?  Doctor’s orders!”

Finally, Cap resigned.  “Fine.  But don’t take anything we’re not looking for.”

“Sorry, but wouldn’t something like that have a lot of security guarding it?  I’m not exactly the fighting type.  Not like you guys, anyway.” You say, starting to regret your decision to come along.

“Not likely.  With most of the scientists working there getting dusted, the place is practically abandoned.”

Rocket says what you’re thinking before you get the chance to.  “So then how do we know the place hasn’t already been raided?”

“It has been.  But something tells me Pym wouldn’t leave this lying around.”

About 20 minutes later, you’re inside Pym tech.  Cap was right.  There had been almost no security measures to get in at all, and the place was absolutely ransacked.  Scraps and wires from what you assumed used to be state-of-the-art technology was strewn all over the floor.

“What exactly is it that we’re looking for?” Rocket asks.  “You haven’t really told us anything aside from its important.”

“Stark said I would know it when I saw it.”

“Really? That’s all he gave us?”  You say, looking at the piles of broken gizmos that would take forever to sort through.  And this was only the first floor.

“Yeah, well, that’s Tony for you.”

For the next three hours, the three of you search thoroughly, floor by floor, hoping to find something still intact and sciencey enough to bring back to the compound.

“This is just depressing,” you say, taking a break from scouring.  “I mean, all if this was probably revolutionary technology, and now it’s all broken.  Forgotten.”  You get up and start looking around. “Like this thing,” you gesture to what looks like an over-sized square funnel that’s on an out of the way shelf.  “We’ll never know what this was a part off.”

“I don’t think that’s a part…” Rocket says, coming closer to look at it.  “This is a whole machine.”  Excited, he begins, running around it, inspecting every detail.  “Come on, come on… there’s gotta be a… Aha!  A button!” he says, giddily.

“I don’t think,” Cap starts, but you put your hand on his arm and stop him.

“He needs this,” you whisper, just quiet enough that Rocket won’t hear you.

You and Steve both move back and find cover, just in case, as Rocket eagerly slams the button.  There’s a loud whirring noise and a bright light that makes you shield your eyes.  Then there’s slience.  Slowly, you peak out from your cover.

Before, where there was only a pile of junk, now stood a man, who seemed, to say the least, very confused.  “I think we found what we came here for,” you hear Steve mutter from beside you.  He steps forward.  “Scott!  It’s been a while.”

“Captain,” he acknowledges, still a little shaken.  He looks over at you.  “Who are you?”  You look to Cap, not knowing what to say due to the shock of having this guy suddenly appear.  “How did I get in here?  I was on a roof with—Where’s Hope?  And Hank?”  He’s scanning around the room, looking for any clue that could answer his questions.  He does a double take when he sees Rocket, but instead of asking yet another question, he just looks to Cap, hoping for an explanation.  Instead of giving one, he looks at you.

“It’s a really good thing you came along.  You’re up.”


End file.
